Chapter 5

Saturday morning, Helen took the train down from Port Chester to Larchmont and walked from the station to Eric sister’s house. This wasn’t intended as a social call exactly. She wanted her future sister-in-law’s help in the matter of the Honda. Katherine, an attorney, might be able to think of some way to recover the car.

Helen rang the bell and heard the rottweiler, Hiro, growling on the other side of the door. She wondered if he was quite the attack dog he tried to pretend to be. Eric thought the canine ferocious, but she sort of doubted that. On the other hand, he was good with Eric’s son, David, who adored him.

After a minute, Katherine opened the door. She was wearing a sweat suit and was, in fact, sweating and breathing hard. She seemed surprised to see Helen but let her in immediately. “I bought an exercise bicycle,” she explained. “I wasn’t making it to the club enough.”

Hiro had stopped his snarling and wanted to be petted. Helen complied. David came over from in front of the television set and wanted to be petted, too. Helen bent down and hugged him. “Where’s my dad?” he asked in the garbled speech that Helen now was able to understand pretty well.

“Didn’t you see your dad yesterday?” she asked.

“Eric came by,” Katherine acknowledged, “but David can’t get enough of his father. It’s a male bonding kind of a thing, I believe, although Eric never had it with our father. That’s probably why Eric turned out the way he did.”

Helen considered that as she sat on the sofa. “How did he turn out?” she asked finally.

“Well, you know,” said Katherine, her expression reflecting some indecipherable emotion.

Did she know? Helen wondered. What kind of man was she about to commit her life to? “He’s a killer,” she commented at last, although not in a mean way.

“Well, yes,” agreed Katherine, “but he is loyal to his friends and family.” The two women looked at one another and laughed. “Oh, don’t worry about it.” But then Eric’s sister seemed to flash on a memory of Eric in action. She turned somber and broke her eye contact with her brother’s finance. “You can come play miniature golf with us later,” she suggested, brightening.

“Why don’t I take you for a plane ride in my private jet, instead? I have to fly over to Connecticut and Roanoke and you guys can come with. Have you ever been on an airplane, David?” David looked uncertain as to the answer.

“He hasn’t,” reported Katherine, “although Eric insists we’re all going down to Disney World soon.”

While Katherine got herself and David together to go on this plane ride, Helen followed Katherine around and explained why she wasn’t driving Eric’s car today. She told Katherine the whole story, including the fact that she had inadvertently taken a client who had called for Eric, but omitting the part about the ATF agent or his revelation that the skyjackers were dangerous revolutionaries.

Katherine laughed. “No problemo,” she said calmly. “We’ll go get the car tomorrow, if they’re open.”

“How?” Helen tried to fathom where Katherine was coming from.

“I have power of attorney,” Katherine said. “I conduct all of Eric’s business affairs, you see, and, of course, for a long time he never knew if he was going to come back from a mission.” She paused. He still didn’t know, really, they both realized. Katherine turned and looked at Helen. “So I have every right to pick up the car. I’m putting a copy of my duly executed power of attorney in my purse right this minute. Worst case, I have a judge sign an order releasing the car to me. It’s a no-brainer.”

Helen knew that when someone made that kind of statement that it meant things were going to get mucked up along the way, for sure.

David loved being in the airplane. He had seen people in planes on television, so he was confused that no other passengers were flying with them, but he was entranced with sitting up among the clouds. He wished, however, that they had taken Hiro along for the ride.

They flew first to Tweed-New Haven Airport in Connecticut, the airfield from which Lyle Adams, the murdered chemist, had flown. Tweed-New Haven was busier than Sandhurst had been, especially since this was a Saturday when all the sports flyers turned out. The place was small enough though, so that the airport manager knew all the regular planes and all the owners. He recalled Adams especially well.

“He was such a nice guy,” the administrator kept saying. “He was always bringing his kids to fly on the weekends.” He looked at David pityingly, though not because of the child’s Downs, Helen instinctively felt, but as if David was the one who had lost a father in Adams. “Once, he brought a kid with leukemia from one of those Make a Wish places and flew him out to see his grandparents in California. He was a really terrific guy. I can’t understand what could have happened to him.” The man shook his head.

After a quiet moment from them all, he spoke again. “Adams was a particularly careful flyer. Flew a lot, too, all around the country. He worked for a defense contractor in New Haven and had business all over, so he was an experienced flyer. They haven’t found the wreckage yet, I don’t think.”

Helen didn’t tell him that they never would.

The three travelers went for grilled hot dogs at the concession stand inside the airport terminal. Adams’ having been employed by a defense contractor rang a big warning bell with Helen. She wondered if more lurked in this whole affair than some simple gunrunning and decided that she was moving ahead of the ATF on this one already. Probably she shouldn’t have brought Katherine and David with her today, because she wanted to do a little more investigating than was practical with them in tow.

“Your dad won’t eat hot dogs,” Helen said to David. That fact didn’t seem to deter the boy’s enjoyment of his meal—with all the trimmings.

The next leg of the trip was to Roanoke Regional and although the skies were blue and relatively bump free, David was bent on being airsick. Maybe Eric was right about hot dogs, Helen mused. Or maybe any food plus the motion would have set David off. Nothing to be done about it now, however, except for Katherine to lead him into the on-board toilet so that he could get rid of his lunch. The chemical smells from the john made matters worse, reported Katherine.

Helen flew a straight line to Roanoke over the Blue Ridge Mountains and Shenandoah National Park. The day was idyllic and the scenery magnificent. What a shame her passengers had ceased their enjoyment of the flight.

But by the time she glided down the long runway at the airport, David had practically forgotten his stomach upset and was looking forward to visiting with Mickey Mouse. He had been told by his dad at some time in the past that they would go on an airplane to see Mickey, and David had decided that this was that moment.

Mickey hadn’t arrived in Virginia yet, the women explained. Historians had previously argued over Mickey’s right to guide tourists through the state’s sacred and historic Civil War battlefields and had banned the mouse’s patriotic agenda. Helen thought Mickey had about as much right as any American. History, all history, was slated for obliteration, anyway, by the march of the overwhelming, devouring present.

At Roanoke Regional, the women were clever enough not to feed David any junk food, although he complained of being hungry. They bought him an orange and a banana at the newsstand and let him eat those.

Helen went to speak to the airport administrator, Cary Greenwild, who was very curt with her, despite her affiliation with the Private Plane Pilots Association. He denied knowing Adams and said that if the FAA wanted to examine his records, they, of course, were free to, but that she was not. Helen bristled, but since she had no verbal rebuff that would work, she didn’t waste her energy. She turned her back on him and stalked out. On the flight back to New York, she mulled over her revenge on Greenwild.

Katherine came and sat next to her in the co-pilot’s seat. David was sleeping, she said. Helen laughed. “I guess he’s had enough of flying for the next year. I hope the trip wasn’t too boring for you both, but look how lovely the world is from up here.”

“Yes. The day has been sort of fun—different, anyway. Maybe you can borrow the plane again soon and fly us all down to Orlando. Seeing Mickey is David’s big dream, you know.”

“You’re going to miss him when he comes to live with Eric and me.” Helen glanced over at Katherine.

Katherine smiled. “I’m going to miss him, but you’re going to find he’s a whole bundle of boy to deal with. I wonder if you know what you’re getting into.”

“I can handle him,” said Helen. “The technique that works best for me is to cave in to all his demands.”

“That’s pretty much how I manage it,” agreed Katherine, jokingly. “But now I’d better make sure he’s not wrecking your plane.” She started to stand up, then sat down again. “I have an idea. If you fly us to La Guardia, we can pick up the car this afternoon.”

The idea appealed to Helen, until they had to stack up for half an hour, waiting for a chance to dodge into the airport between regularly scheduled runs. David woke up during that time and was restless and cranky. He’d had enough of the flying experience. Helen could hear him fussing in the back and, finally, Katherine settling him down, but she was glad when they landed, and she could lock up the airplane.

Katherine would drive Eric’s car home, but Helen would come back for the plane and fly it to Westchester County. The extra hop would be an expense in airport fees and such, but she didn’t want to leave the airplane overnight at La Guardia. She felt too vulnerable to the man who had called her house to be casual about where she parked the plane.

Getting out the gate took them a while and then they had to walk toward the main part of the airport where they could pick up a cab. Unfortunately, David was still sleepy and crabby.

At one point, they stopped along the road so Katherine could tie David’s shoelaces. How did little boys’ shoelaces come undone so quickly? A car squealed to a halt beside the group as the women looked up in surprise and curiosity. The door opened and a man hopped out to open the back door. “Get in, ladies,” he said in a thick accent of some kind.

The women demurred. He was kind to offer, but they were okay, they assured him. They had a ride. A gun appeared in their would-be “rescuer’s” hand. “Enn, enn, get enn,” he ordered, fiercely.

If Helen had been alone, she would have resisted, fought for her life right at that point, but she was responsible for Katherine and David and didn’t have the luxury of such a response. The women started to enter the back of the car, with David between them, but the man put David in the front seat beside the driver, then squeezed in with the women in the rear. He smiled. A tooth was missing on one side, Helen noticed. They were bandits of some type, she concluded, observing his poor dental condition. The skyjacker had sent them! A wave of fear gripped her stomach. She tried to breathe deeply and relax.

“Let the two of them go. I’ll come with you,” she begged. “You don’t want them. I’m the one you want. This has nothing to do with them.”

The two men exchanged their views on the topic in their own language for a while, as the driver continued out the airport gate, paying the parking fee while the man in back held a gun against Katherine’s side. Katherine was grim-faced but looked angry. The car drove onto the expressway.

The man in the back took Katherine’s purse during the journey and rummaged through it, finally extracting all the cash in her wallet, which looked to Helen to be about eighty dollars or so. Then he filched Katherine’s credit card. He motioned to Helen to hand over her purse as well, but since she had the Beretta in there, she opened it quickly, took her wallet out and gave it to him. “I have personal things in there,” she told him indignantly, trying to imply a range of condoms, diaphragms, and tampons that she hoped to prevent his eyes from feasting upon.

The bandit’s own brand of modesty—even a thief may be modest—seemed to hold him in place. Helen retained the purse, and the gun.

Maybe the men were simply out to steal their money, Helen conjectured. This was merely one of those random acts that went on in the city all the time. Surely revolutionaries didn’t hold you up. That cheered her. Further, she concluded, even just plain muggers didn’t take your money prior to shooting you. They shot you, then rifled the body for valuables. These men were robbers only, she felt sure. Now, they would simply let the three of them go.

They drove for a while—the man in the back delivering unsavory glances to the two women and David whimpering in front. “Let the boy come in back with us,” Katherine pleaded. The man in the back seat with them simply shook his head no. The driver adjusted the rearview mirror to glance back at them.

Helen supposed they were in Queens. She didn’t know that borough, but it seemed sufficiently congested to be a part of the city. Further, a lot of the store signs were in languages other than English. Queens probably had the densest foreign-born population in the U.S., outside of Los Angeles.

Soon, they came to a residential area of shabby little wooden houses lined up side by side. The homes enjoyed no front yards and, as this was a cold April, the few trees on the street offered not a hint of Spring. The driver parked and the man in back ordered his prisoners out, showing them the gun, then tucking it out of sight, his hand inside his jacket.

Maybe these weren’t ordinary robbers, Helen acknowledged. Maybe they were the skyjackers—men missing teeth who picked the pockets of women and children before doing God only knew what to them. In the name of Justice for the People, she supposed. That was history, all right, and if that was what history was, give her Mickey Mouse any day. Viva la Disney!

The men shoved the trio up the walk. Helen picked up David in her arms, so he wouldn’t have to walk so fast, and so that he wouldn’t be too frightened.

The evening was chilly, and none of the neighbors seemed to be out and about. In the middle of millions of people, the feeling was one of utter solitude. If the women were to shout, no one would heed their cries.

A man inside opened the front door, quickly letting in the kidnappers and their captives, then shutting the door behind them. This third gangster wore a shoulder holster with a semi-automatic gun nestled in it threateningly. Eric would know the maker of the weapon, the caliber of the gun, and the exact number of rounds in the gun’s magazine. He also would have them safely out of there in less than an hour’s time.

She would do it, too, Helen resolved. She had said she could handle things as well as Eric could, so why not try? She even had the advantage of being armed. She wondered though how many other gun-toting villains were lurking in the house.

The men consulted in their native tongue, which Helen now was pretty sure was Spanish, as she believed she recognized an occasional word. She wasn’t at all good with languages. She had done well in physics and geometry, and had once longed to be an astronaut, but languages were really well beyond her ken.

Businesslike, the three men began to tie up the women with clothesline. Helen protested and struggled. “What the hell do you think you’re doing? I demand that you let us go,” she insisted. “I’m an Air Force lieutenant. You can’t treat me this way.” The men seemed amused by her vain efforts.

But her clownish carrying on hadn’t been without value, she decided a few minutes later, as she tested her bonds while sitting with Katherine and David in an empty room. She hadn’t been secured as tightly as she might have been. “Don’t worry,” she whispered to Katherine. “I’m going to get us out of here.”

“Why did they kidnap us in the first place?” Katherine whispered back.

“I think they’re the skyjackers,” Helen hissed to her companion.

The room was not only empty, but it was also entirely empty. It had no furniture at all, and the women had been thrust onto the hard floor to wait. The house wasn’t heated, and the chill rushed in under the threshold and seeped in from the window. David plopped himself onto Katherine’s lap, and she groaned. “It’s all right, sweetheart,” she told the boy.

“I wish Daddy was here,” the child told his aunt solemnly. He obviously understood enough about what was going on to know it wasn’t a very pleasant business.

Helen struggled, trying to loosen the ropes. Then she heard their kidnappers approaching the room and stopped her movements. Two men appeared in the doorway— one of their abductors—the driver—and a man she hadn’t seen before. This fourth man was not only well-dressed but costumed immaculately. The sweater he was wearing was probably cashmere and he didn’t seem to be the type of man who would let a missing tooth go unreplaced. In fact, he was young—in his early thirties—and rather good looking as well.

“Hello,” this fourth man said amiably, as if the women had just stopped by for a visit. A chill ran down Helen’s spine. He was the one who had called her on the phone the night before last. That was the voice!

Helen glared at him. “Release us at once,” she ordered. “You don’t know the trouble you are getting into here.”

The man appeared to be entertained by her demand. “I like trouble,” he replied. “Life would be very boring without a challenge.”

“Then you’ll like it in the federal prison in Marion, Ohio,” she retorted.

“You’re missing a step or two,” he answered. “They have to catch me first.”

“Why bother coming after me then, if you think you’re so elusive? This is a mistake. You’ve made a mistake. You’re showing your hand. You’re not as clever as you imagine.”

“Then you do know who I am and why you’re here,” he observed. “That’s fine. Your being here is not an error, however. Once you’re out of the way, that’s that. In fact, you’re an amusement for me, a show of strength. Our network is powerful. Don’t you find it interesting that I know who you are and was able to pick you up right after you landed at La Guardia?”

“Yes,” she agreed. “That’s interesting, all right.”

“That alone should make the FAA, and eventually the pilots, feel less secure about your great civil aviation system,” the man sneered. “America the Great has many vulnerabilities.”

“By your lack of accent, I would say that you were brought up here,” Helen pointed out.

The man smiled. “I’ll leave you to consider your fate and the fate of your friends. Too bad you’re a woman. Otherwise we’d fly out in your plane tomorrow, using your identification. That would be amusing, to steal a plane registered to the Private Plane Pilots Association. But I don’t want you to think I’m not a gentleman and I don’t want you to die with too much on your conscience. Since the little boy is retarded, I’ll let him go. He won’t make much of a witness for the police.” He withdrew from the doorway along with the other revolutionary.

“Nice guy,” said Katherine. She sounded furious.

Helen began to struggle with the ropes again. “David,” she called softly. “See my purse over there. Open it up.”

David followed her instruction. “Can you find my nail clippers? Do you know what a nail clipper is? Oh God, how do I describe it? David, show me one thing at a time in my purse.”

David showed her the gun. “No, dear, put that down. What I’m looking for is smaller than that.” David seemed to lose interest in the quest. “Please, David. This is important.”

After she had cajoled him a while longer, he showed her in turn her lip gloss, her sunglasses, her address book, a pen, an emery board, a roll of breath mints, and, finally, her nail clippers. “Yes, David, yes, hand them to me behind my back. You’re a wonderful boy.” She grabbed the clippers in her hands and tried to manipulate them so she could cut the clothesline.

“I can help you,” Katherine whispered. She bumped herself into line with Helen, directly behind her, grabbed the nail clippers in her own tied hands and began to clip through the ropes a few strands at a time. Helen pulled her hands apart to help weaken the fibers.

“Yesss!” exclaimed Helen triumphantly as the cord was finally severed. She took the clippers from Katherine and began cutting the bonds on her ankles. In no time at all, she was free.

She picked up the gun and placed it on her lap as she tried to untie Katherine. The knots were tight, so she used the clippers here as well, listening all the while for sounds of the men returning. ‘I’ll leave you to consider your fate,’ indeed, she thought. What a demented swine.

Actually, this had worked out for the best. Once they were out of here, she was in a better position than she had been earlier in the day. She knew the face of the man who was heading at least this end of the skyjacking operation. She was miles ahead of Dennis Malloy. She was eons in front of the ATF. In part, her triumph was because she was Air Force. In part, it was simply because she was a women, and could ever so shrewdly suss things out.